


you've earned this, so own it

by akaparalian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Begging, Cock Worship, Deepthroating, Edgeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 07, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian/pseuds/akaparalian
Summary: Keith deserves his full attention, deserves the maximum possible amount of care and preparation and devotion and time. Because he’s always been beautiful, and Shiro has always loved him in one way or another — loved him just as muchbeforehe came back broader and more grizzled, because Keith could look like Bii-Boh-Bi and Shiro would still love him — but this, this new Keith who’s both achingly familiar and noticeably different, he deserves to know just how much he affects Shiro.Or, Shiro makes a point and Keith makes a lot of noise.





	you've earned this, so own it

**Author's Note:**

> This started out life as my fill for the "Growth" square on my Sheith card for Voltron Bingo. Then I was like, "Oh, I can't do daily Kinktober fics, but maybe I'll do weekly ones, and just throw in as many of that week's prompts as I can," and so I took a bunch of prompts (deep-throating, begging, edgeplay, cock worship, praise kink) from week one of Kinktober, because I started writing this around the first of the month. Then I got sidetracked, and didn't quite finish it, and then I realized that Keith's birthday was right around the corner and I didn't have anything planned, so I decided to try and finally finish this up today, and, well, here we are! This will probably end up being the only Kinktober-related fic I publish; ah, well. I'll plan ahead better next year. (Famous last words.)
> 
> Title is from "Correct" by MNEK.

The human brain is a tricky thing, still not fully understood even by the leading edges of modern science, and there are plenty of really smart people out there — including several he knows personally — who’d probably love to pick apart the effects of all this semi-magic nonsense on _Shiro’s_ brain. Shoving his consciousness into a body that had previously had its own memories and thoughts, but had also been under external control, is… far beyond the current human understanding of neuroscience, that’s for sure. 

It’s interesting to think about, and Shiro’s sure that various Holts, among others, would be more than interested in talking about it with him, too. But beyond the grand, sweeping implications for free will and human nature and the existence of the soul and science and magic and whatever else, there are practical concerns for taking up residence in a previously-occupied brain that’s kind of, but not really, your own: Shiro has memories that he can’t quite account for. 

Mostly, it’s little flashes here and there — mundane things and happy things, battles and anger and cruelty, the faded echo of a splitting headache, Coran’s mustache twitching with joy, Hunk’s voice full of concern, Lance and Pidge laughing.

There’s one moment in particular, though, suspended in the back of his mind like a fly trapped in amber, shoved back and away because he’s not quite sure at first how to deal with it. He’s busy focusing on no longer being in the astral plane, and then on getting back to Earth, and then on fighting off a Galra invasion. He doesn’t have time to think about Keith.

Well. He thinks about Keith a lot, which is nothing new, and by and large, that’s fine. It’s really just this one particular thing that’s… an issue he doesn’t have the time or ability to handle just yet. Out of all the little half-snippets of memory left rattling around in his neural networks from the time when this body had been occupied by his clone, this one is somehow among the clearest and most distinct, etched permanently into his synapses, apparently: Keith standing there in the hangar, in his Blade suit, having somewhat miraculously grown taller and broader almost overnight. Keith with that determined, no-nonsense expression on his face, eyes softening when he saw Shiro. He can still remember the way the clone had felt in that moment, even, and it’s actually a little comforting to think that any and all versions of him were apparently equally affected by this new, bigger, older Keith.

What a difference a couple of years in a magical time field can make.

It’s not that Keith wasn’t beautiful before. Keith has _always_ been beautiful, all lean muscle and sharp lines and wild dark hair curling around his jaw. But now — now — 

Maybe it takes him a little while to get there, caught up in everything that’s happening, but Shiro’s okay with waiting, really. After all, he’s already waited _this_ long; what’s a little more? And Keith... Keith deserves his full attention, deserves the maximum possible amount of care and preparation and devotion and time. Because he’s always been beautiful, and Shiro has always loved him in one way or another — loved him just as much _before_ he came back broader and more grizzled, because Keith could look like Bii-Boh-Bi and Shiro would still love him — but this, this new Keith who’s both achingly familiar and noticeably different, he deserves to know just how much he affects Shiro. He deserves to know just how much Shiro is always hyperaware of him when they’re in the same room, and how Shiro can’t seem to stop himself from tracing his eyes over the curve of his back, and how thoughts of his chest and his shoulders and his thighs are constantly pulsing at the back of Shiro’s mind, no matter how much he tries to focus on anything else.

Keith deserves all of this and more. Keith deserves _everything_.

—

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith is gasping, though his voice is half-choked and his tongue sounds heavy in his mouth, the word hardly recognizable. Shiro hums in response just to watch him writhe. “Shiro, fuck, fuck.”

God, he’s intoxicating. The lamp on the bedside table is on, and there’s moonlight streaking in through the window; Keith is caught in between the two light sources, suffused with a slightly golden glow on one side and painted in silver on the other, with his head thrown back against the sheets and his hands gripping tightly at Shiro’s hair and at the bedding, respectively. Maybe if he weren’t so beautiful, Shiro would be worried about waking half the damn Garrison with the amount of noise they’re making — Paladins of Voltron may rate better rooms than cadets or junior officers, but the walls are still only so thick — but when Shiro’s gaze trips from his collarbone down to his heaving stomach, he only wants to make Keith louder, wilder.

He does pull off, though, letting Keith's cock slide out of his throat until the head is just resting over his lips, because the whole point of this, tonight, is to draw things out. To show Keith, now that he's had the time to really think about it, just how much and in how many ways Shiro finds him mind-bendingly attractive, now and always.

Not that he's never told Keith as much before, but -- Keith is different now, and so is he, and so are _they_. It's worth reaffirming, Shiro thinks.

"Look at you," he murmurs, and feels a rush of delight when Keith twitches against his lips at the words. "God, you're incredible."

"Shi _ro_ ," Keith groans, half-complaining, but Shiro shushes him and then, knowing that won't do any good, presses a long, slow lick to the head of his cock to _actually_ shut him up.

"We've explored so much of the universe, and even so you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He noses slowly down Keith's shaft, down to suck lightly at his balls, then back up, rubbing Keith's cock idly against his face. "Most beautiful thing I ever _will_ see."

"Always with the fucking sweet talk," Keith mutters, as though he's not red in the face and leaking precome at the words, at the smooth, warm, loving croon that Shiro says them in. He's never much known what to do with praise, in Shiro's experience; he's gotten better at it, generally, but the difference between being told he's done a good job pulling off some maneuver and _this_ is massive, and selfishly, Shiro hopes that Keith never gets any better at taking praise like this, hopes it always leaves him shaking and turning his head so that he can hide his gasps in the crook of his arm.

He kisses the head of Keith's cock, open-mouthed and wet, and follows it up with a couple of little laps at the liquid budding there at the slit, and then without warning sinks all the way down again, just like he'd been before, utilizing every trick in his playbook to slide smoothly down until his nose is resting against Keith's abdomen, until he can swallow around him and listen with a low-burning satisfaction to the way Keith shouts.

There's a particularly sharp tug at his hair, and he looks up to see that it's not, evidently, a conscious thing; it's just that Keith is teetering right on the edge, his mouth drawn open around a moan that sounds like it's coming from the very deepest parts of him, and then he chokes it off by biting deeply into his bottom lip before gasping out, "Fuck, Shiro, I'm gonna—"

Shiro has to time it carefully, but he's pretty certain even as he's moving that he's managed to pull off and grip Keith tightly around the base of his cock at _just_ the right moment before the crest of his orgasm. He's _sure_ he's done it right when he looks up in response to the ragged sound Keith makes to see his eyes screwed shut tight, his chest heaving as he writhes at the denial. 

"Shiro, what the _fuck_ ," Keith groans, evidently as soon as he can speak, but while the expression he shoots down at Shiro when he finally opens his eyes is baleful and betrayed, this isn't exactly their first time around the block, and Shiro knows him more than well enough to be able to read the delight and expectation and _heat_ in his face, too. 

"Not done with you yet, baby," Shiro murmurs into the crease of his thigh, leaving a biting kiss there that makes Keith gasp loudly before trailing light butterfly kisses all the way up the length of his cock. "I want to show you how gorgeous you are, and that's gonna take time. Might take me all night."

"Takashi Shirogane, if you fucking edge me all night, I swear to God..." 

The glare Keith tries to pin him with would be more convincing if he didn't sound downright excited about the idea, but Shiro doesn't tell him that; he ducks down to hide his smile instead and traces his tongue over the vein that winds down the underside of Keith's dick. The idea is tempting, but frankly, Shiro doesn't have that much faith in his own patience. As much as it might look on the surface like Keith, who even now is on the more hot-headed and brash side of things, would be the one to crack first, Shiro has never been able to resist him for long. He's beautiful like this, strung out and wanting — he's beautiful _every_ way — but Keith is a _vision_ when he comes. 

But Shiro can hold off a little longer, for now. There really is so much else he wants to do tonight — long, stretching swathes of time taking Keith apart with just his mouth, swapping lips and tongue and teeth for his words whenever he needs to take a breather. He's been thinking about it... well, probably an inappropriate amount, honestly. Not that he thinks Keith would mind knowing that he's been occupying so much of Shiro's waking mind.

But now, at last, he gets to _do_ it, and not just think about it. So he hums quietly, presses another wet, messy kiss to the head of Keith's dick where it's gone nearly purple and dripping slick with precome, and says, "No, not all night. But I want to — I wanna show you what you do to me. I want to make you understand. God, Keith, baby, you... You're like nothing else."

There's a soft noise above him, not so much wanting this time as aching, and when he looks up again, Keith's shifted to lean up onto his elbows to make better eye contact, and his face is so open and soft and incredibly loving that Shiro would swear his heart stops in his chest.

"Shiro," Keith says softly, and with just that one word it's like the whole balance of power in the situation is flipped; Shiro shivers, shudders, feels like he's coming apart just at the weight of his name in Keith's mouth, the way his voice all but cracks down the middle. "I love you so much."

There’s a moment, looking up at Keith sprawled out over the bed and lit from all around so that he almost seems to glow, where Shiro honestly thinks he might cry. He’s known it for a long time, now, but time hasn’t made it any less true: Keith is going to be the death of him.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, and shivers again when the hand Keith’s still got knotted in his hair switches from tugging to petting softly, stroking his bangs back off of his forehead. 

Shiro takes a deep breath, lets himself linger in the moment and in the unimpeded swell of emotion in the space between them, and then he leans forward to gently nuzzle his way back to where Keith’s still achingly hard, down from the edge, but only just. 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, then ducks his head to the side to bite playfully at Keith’s thigh. “And strong enough to crack my head between your thighs, too.”

Keith snorts, totally inelegant and almost out of place in the moment they’d been having, but so _him_ and so delightful that Shiro could never be anything but charmed by it. “You’re so fucking weird,” he says. “Why is _that_ what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Because you’re strong, and that’s sexy,” Shiro tells him point-blank, smirking up at him a little and licking the bulge of his thighs for emphasis. He’s not exactly in range right now to lavish similar affections on the other places where Keith is noticeably stronger now than he once was — shoulders, biceps, calves — but his thighs will definitely do for the time being. “You got _big_ while you were away, baby.”

“Wasn’t a lot to do on that whale except work out,” Keith says, rolling his eyes and flopping back down into the sheets from where he’d propped himself up on his elbows. Then he tips his head back up again to pin Shiro with an amused look, one eyebrow quirked. “What, don’t tell me you’re _just_ now noticing this?”

Shiro snorts, dragging his teeth slowly up Keith’s leg, from mid-thigh until he reaches his groin. “No, of course not. But — well, there’s been a lot going on…” He trails off, knowing that Keith will more than understand the reference to the fact that their sex life was understandably put on hold for a while by the absolute laundry list of stress and danger that’s taken over their lives recently, everything from streaking through space in just their lions for days and days on end to having to fend off a full-scale invasion of Earth, and not quite ready to get into the other part of it yet, the part where Shiro had just needed some time to sit with all of the ways Keith changed while he was out of the picture. 

No doubt Keith gets that second part anyway — he’s always been uniquely good at seeing straight through Shiro, like he’s made of glass — but still. 

Keith makes a gasping _hnng_ sort of noise when Shiro nips at the skin just where his thigh meets his groin, and it seems like all of his capacity for talking has been taken up for the time being, because when Shiro finally returns his attention to his cock, which has now left a little smear of wetness across his abs and looks _painfully_ hard, the only things that come out of his mouth are groans and whimpers. 

Shiro slides back down Keith’s cock this time as slowly as he can possibly manage, one smooth motion but at a glacial pace, barely moving at all. By the time he has his nose pressed to Keith’s abdomen once more, Keith is absolutely keening, the sounds raw and open and rasping out of his throat. Shiro’s own cock, long-neglected but most definitely interested in the proceedings, gives a notable twitch when Keith tugs on his forelock with a noise that’s somewhere between a grunt and a whimper.

“Shiro, _please_ ,” Keith groans, and that’s the first real inkling Shiro gets that his own patience may start to wear thin soon, that this may be the beginning of the end. 

He doesn’t give up yet, though, just humming around Keith’s dick and looking up at him as best he can through his eyelashes. Keith makes another sound, almost wounded, when their eyes meet, and when he hears it Shiro has to pull off just so that he can get his breath back a little.

“Shiro, God, I can’t —”

“Yes you can,” Shiro murmurs against the crown of his cock, lips brushing hot skin with every word. Keith’s back bows up into the touch. 

“I really, _really_ fucking can’t,” Keith half-laughs, thoroughly winded. His head is thrown back, neck a perfect arch that almost, _almost_ temps Shiro into crawling up over his body to bite at that tantalizing Adam’s apple. “Your _mouth_ ,” he adds in a groan.

Shiro grins, delighted, and rewards him for _that_ comment by sucking him all the way back down, much more quickly this time, and setting up a relatively lazy rhythm. He times his motion to the tempo of Keith’s gasps and moans, a feedback loop that has them both ramping up, faster and faster. His own hips are rutting senselessly down into the bed, seeking any friction at all, but he hardly notices; he’s way too focused on the way Keith is now well and truly falling apart above him.

“Shiro, Shiro, Shiro,” he chants, his eyes half-lidded and glassy and mesmerizing, his stomach drawn taut as the head of a drum, his chest heaving. “Please, Shiro, I wanna — let me come —”

Oh, Shiro likes the sound of that _very_ much. He makes an encouraging sort of noise, and Keith doubles down on the begging.

“God, Shiro, _please_ , I need to come, please let me come.” He groans long and loud when Shiro can’t quite hold back a deep moan of his own and it rumbles in his throat; Keith shivers at the vibrations around his cock. He’s close, _so_ close — Shiro knows the way he looks when he’s right on the edge well enough, and with every word out of Keith’s mouth he increases his pace a little, sloppy, wet sounds spilling out from around his lips and mixing with Keith’s cries, and everything is just getting hotter and faster and filthier, and then finally, finally —

After all that noise, Keith’s silent when he comes, his thighs shaking around Shiro’s ears, his hips pressing up as his heels dig into the mattress, his mouth dropping open into a wide, perfect ‘o.’ Shiro watches every little microexpression that slips across his face, taking it all in greedily, swallowing all the while as Keith’s come pulses into his mouth. _I love you_ , he thinks, fiercely, because his mouth’s too full to actually tell Keith at the moment. _I love you so much_.

It’s almost an afterthought to reach down between his own legs and jerk himself off with quick, efficient strokes; it takes barely thirty seconds before he’s coming into his hand, staring up at where Keith is still dazedly recovering with his softening cock still in Shiro’s mouth. 

Neither one of them manages to do or say much of anything for a few long minutes. Shiro pulls off and crawls up the bed, but then he collapses half on top of Keith because that’s all he can manage, and they lay there, panting, curled together.

“So,” Keith says eventually, and Shiro shifts a little so that he can look at him. He looks… Well, mostly he still looks a bit dazed, Shiro notes not a little bit smugly, but he also looks faintly amused. “You like that I’m… What was it Lance said? _Beefier?_ ”

Shiro snorts, and also snuggles into him a little closer, listening for the sound of his pulse as it slowly returns to normal, enjoying the comforting _tump-tump_ and the warmth of Keith’s skin, even though they’re both slightly tacky with cooling sweat. “I like the way you look now, and I liked the way you looked before, and I’ll like the way you look no matter what.” He pauses. “But… Well, yeah. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you are _incredibly_ attractive. You always have been, but _now_ , it’s...”

Keith’s answering huff of laughter is strong enough to nearly jostle Shiro off of him. “Yeah, well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“Not bad, huh?” Shiro buries his smile in the crook of Keith’s neck. “I’ll take it.”

“If you want me to start listing all the things about you I think are hot, I’m gonna get turned on again, and I don’t think either one of us can handle another round right now,” Keith says dryly, hooking his chin over Shiro’s head to draw him even closer. 

“Fair point,” Shiro sighs. “I guess you can stroke my ego later, then.”

“Oh, I’ll stroke _something_.”

Shiro doesn’t dignify that with a response; instead he just rolls his eyes, even though Keith can’t see him do it, and then lets them flutter closed, focusing in on data from his other senses instead: the gentle rhythm of Keith’s breathing under his head, the whir of the environmental control system in the silence, the contrast between Keith’s warm body and the familiar just-this-side-of-too-cold air of the Garrison. He is sated and happy and loved, and curled up with the most beautiful man in this or any universe, and there isn’t anything he needs to say. He just breathes in deep and snuggles in a little closer to Keith’s side. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Come chat with me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/akaparalian) or [Tumblr](http://floralegia.tumblr.com)!


End file.
